Poem: Wrestling the Blank Page
Every writer knows the feeling, a brilliant idea dances around your mind, bursting with potential, yet the moment you sit in front of a blank page, it vanishes like steam from a hot cuppa. Suddenly, everything seems more important than writing, from tidying the desk to making another cup of tea.
Wrestling the Blank Page is a light-hearted look at the joys, frustrations and wonderfully chaotic reality of the writing life. It’s a reminder that every author, whether beginner or bestseller, faces moments of doubt. More importantly, it celebrates the simple truth that the only way to fill a blank page is to keep writing, one imperfect word at a time.
Wrestling the Blank Page
The kettle’s boiled. The biscuits wait.
I’ve sharpened pencils. Checked the date.
I’ve tidied shelves that weren’t a mess,
Then called it “creative preparedness”.
The blank page stares with smug delight,
As though it’s won before the fight.
It whispers, “Go on then… impress.”
I answer, “First, I’ll reorganise this desk.”
An idea bounces round my head,
Doing cartwheels full of dread.
It’s brilliant there, all bold and bright,
But trips on words when brought to light.
One sentence limps. The next one hides.
A metaphor takes scenic rides.
The hero’s lost his favourite shoe.
The villain’s started knitting too.
My notebook’s full of half-baked schemes,
Coffee stains and dragon dreams.
There’s dialogue from half-past three,
That made perfect sense to sleepy me.
The thesaurus offers twenty words.
Some are splendid. Some absurd.
I choose one, then another three…
Until the sentence flees from me.
I sigh. I groan. I pace the floor.
I promise I’ll write “just one more”.
Then somehow, almost by surprise,
A little spark begins to rise.
A paragraph. A page. A scene.
Not quite the finest ever seen.
But every tale that’s loved and read
Was once just clutter in a head.
So if today your thoughts won’t stay,
Or every draft has run astray,
Remember this, my writing friend:
The only story with no end
Is one that’s never dared begin,
Still locked away somewhere within.
So splash the ink. Embrace the mess.
Great books wear wrinkles, more or less.
Write crooked lines. Cross half them out.
Leave room for wonder, hope and doubt.
For every author, old or new,
Has wrestled blankness just like you.
The page may win a round or two,
But perseverance carries through.
Just laugh, keep writing, don’t despair,
The best ideas arrive somewhere.
So when the words refuse to flow,
And progress seems painfully slow,
Keep turning up, keep taking part,
For every story starts with heart.
Trust every draft, however rough,
A whispered thought is quite enough.
One honest line can light the way,
And lead to something grand one day.
The page is waiting, calm and white,
Not as a foe, but an invite.
So lift your pen and boldly start…
The world’s still waiting for your heart.
© Colin Lawson 2026
© Colin Lawson Books